One of the first things I remember seeing was my creator. She was so stunningly beautiful that it was hard for me to picture looking like that myself. She seemed very upset, and then something pushed at my eyes and I couldn't see anything anymore. All I was left with was the memory of what I had seen and the wisps of conversation I heard every so often.

From what I've heard, my creator, Opal, is a cruel pixie. But how could someone so cruel be willing to give up part of herself in order to create me? Then again, maybe she was cruel to create me; that's what people say. After all, what am I? Am I her? Is she me? I don't know who or what I am. It's all so confusing.

I hate it in here. They have me hooked in a harness, on display, I guess. They stick white puffy things in my mouth that taste funny. I don't like it. And then that one time that centaur guy stuck those cups on my eyes, and I didn't know why. The only good thing about it was that he left my eyes open so I could see. But it scared me, and it still scares me. I'm afraid they're trying to kill me since I serve no purpose.

But would it be so bad to die? After all, this "life" I'm living isn't much. I can't move, I can't speak… I wish I could. Then maybe they'd respect me.

I know what they say about me, and what they call me. Nopal, meaning not Opal and meaning that I have no friends. But they're wrong; I do have friends. Two friends, at least.

There's that elf girl who comes to sit with me. Sometimes she talks to me, which I like. If only I could respond. Sometimes she even touches me, gently strokes my forehead and whispers soothingly. I like her because she is nice to me. Most people aren't.

And then there's the boy. Oh, I do like the boy. Sometimes he comes alone, but mostly he comes and sits with the elf girl. He doesn't say much, but he doesn't have to. I can tell there's something special between the two of them. I can see it in their gestures, in the way they speak to one another, in the looks that pass between them that say much more than any words could. I wish he would look at me like that… But at least he, too, is nice to me. He taps on the glass and seems to like it when I try to mimic his tapping. He gets really excited, like when he showed the elf girl. I had mixed feelings about that. I thought the tapping was our own secret thing, an unspoken language just between us. But the way his eyes lit up when he showed her… I can tell he loves her, and she him, even if they don't know it.

I'm not just a shell, some poor, dumb creature who can't do anything. I can see and hear and understand things, even if it takes me longer. They have no idea.

My friends left abruptly the last time they were here. That made me sad. I look forward to their visits. It's the only thing I have to live for. I like to imagine that some day when they're with me, I'll be able to move and talk, and they will be so surprised and happy, and I would tell the boy how I feel about him, even though I know it's how he feels for the elf.

Oh no. Someone's coming my way. It's the centaur guy! He carefully lifts me out of my harness and puts me in an egg. I wonder if this is it for me. Maybe this egg is my coffin and they're going to bury me alive. Well, partially alive. If only I could fight back. They can't do this to me! It's not fair. Just because I didn't ask to be created doesn't mean I wish I weren't alive.

But then I feel the egg go up and up and up. Surely the ground is not up. Maybe they're putting me somewhere new. But will someone tell my friends where I am? I don't want to miss their visits.

The egg stops after some time. I don't know how much. I was never very good at time. I could never figure out how much of it had passed between visits from my friends. A scraggly creature peeks in at me, and a little while later, so does the elf girl. So at least she knows where I am. But she leaves in such a hurry and doesn't bother to even say a word to me. That hurts my feelings.

Then the boy comes and takes me out of the egg. He wraps me up in a hood and straps something to my face. This scares me because it reminds me of the cups on my eyes. Why is he doing this to me? And what is it that he's doing? I thought we were friends.

We are moving, him dragging me along awkwardly. My feet dig into the ground. We stop, and he loses his grip on me, and I feel myself falling, rolling, skidding down a hill. I land on my back, but I can't see much with the thing on my face.

Then the boy picks me up again and carries me up, bumping me along some steps. I can't quite breathe, so my lungs gasp raggedly at the air.

Then he drops me, like I'm nothing but a sack of meat. If I could cry, I would. I thought the boy cared about me! Why would someone so nice be so mean all of a sudden?

He speaks, and the voice that answers is one that I had nearly forgotten. Opal, my creator.

As I try to sort through my feelings about this, someone picks me up by my neck. I hope it's not the boy, because this really hurts me. My head lolls and dangles. I feel so weak. I've always felt weak, but this is a different weak. This is vulnerable weak. The kind of weak that puts me at the mercy of Opal and whatever horrible creatures she has working for her.

Someone grabs my hand, Opal, I think, and slaps it against something hard. This also hurts.

I'm so, so scared now. I'm hurting, and no one seems to care. My friends don't like me anymore. I'm alone and confused and frightened for my meager little life.

Then, something familiar. Tapping. The boy is tapping. He does still like me. He's trying to talk to me. I tap desperately back, or at least try to.

Opal rips the thing off my face, violently, but something tells me not to be distracted by her. I continue to reach my hand toward the boy, wishing he would take it in his and never ever let go and protect me from these horrible people who hurt me.

My fingers fit into a form, and I feel warmth beneath my hand. Everything is so overwhelming. I fall to the ground.

Looking up, I see souls leaving bodies. I form my lips into what I hope is a smile. It's nice to see souls returning to where they belong. I don't have one, but at least I can imagine what those spirits must feel like to finally go home.

Then the boy's face is near mine. My usually unfocused vision focuses on him. He is so close to me. I wish I could reach up a hand and run it down the length of his face and pull his lips to mine and show him just what he means to me. I want to stop time and stay in this moment for the rest of my life.

But then the moment is gone, and he's gone, and everything is gone, and I'm…